


The Quiet Ones

by sual



Category: Dredd (2012), Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Aftercare, Ambiguously related Hux and Techie, Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Blindfolds, Butt Plugs, Come Eating, Come as Lube, Comeplay, Creampie, Eventual Relationships, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, Gangbang, Glory Hole, Kylux implied, M/M, Marathon Sex, Masturbation in Shower, Matt is NOT Kylo Ren, Matt the secret romantic, Messy/Rough Blow Jobs, Pining, Public Blow Jobs, Shameless Smut, Techie is filthy, Techienician, implied Techie/OMC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8535892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sual/pseuds/sual
Summary: Matt's dry spell has turned into more of a four-year drought. Fortunately, the answer comes in the form of anonymous sex. Unfortunately, Matt's not so good at keeping things anonymous.Shameless filth with the barest hint of plot, tags will be added as we go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so ashamed haha.
> 
> This is a story idea I've had floating around in my head for a while. Originally I was going to do it with Kylux, but I couldn't see Hux's character fitting with it. Techie and Matt, on the other hand, I can see as being downright filthy...anyway, I've read just about every fic in this pairing tag by now so I figured it was high time I added something of my own! 
> 
> Please read the tags and let me know if I've missed anything! This will be in three parts with things added as we go, but know that everything is consensual.

“You need to get laid.”

Matt feels his eyelid twitch, Leslee’s words on a loop around his head. _Matt, man, you gotta get laid_. The problem– or rather, Matt’s biggest problem with his supervisor, is her irritating tendency to blame all of Matt’s numerous issues on a single thing. For a while she theorized that it was lactose intolerance; _you gotta cut out blue milk, Matt. You know that yoghurt just makes you cranky, Matt._ Last month it had been not sleeping enough. The month before that, she’d forcibly enrolled him in yoga classes. 

Only this time, she’s hit a little too close to home. He can’t deny that it _has_ been a long time, less a dry spell and more a four-year drought since his last awkward fumble. And not for lack of trying, either – but his reputation for sudden and inexplicable violent outbursts has preceded him ever since his first week stationed on the Finalizer, when he punched his roommate in the stomach over a pillow. He knows his face is etched into a permanent, sulky scowl, he _knows_ his way of talking is stiff and stilted and socially maladjusted, he-

The plastic spoon in his fist snaps in half. 

“ _Fucking_ _hell_ , Matt!” Teva yells, jumping in his seat as the snapped handle of the spoon suddenly shoots past his face, narrowly avoiding the poor technician’s eye. Matt blinks as his surroundings slowly come back into focus; the other occupants of the cafeteria eye him, half wary, half exhausted, as he looks down in surprise at the remains of the cutlery in his hand, still tense with poorly suppressed anger.

Fuck, but he really needs to get laid. 

“Sorry,” he grits out, not quite managing to open his teeth while he says it. Teva just makes an exasperated noise, picking up his tray and moving to a table of stormtroopers as passive-aggressively as he can manage. 

Matt sits there for a while trying to breathe through his nose like HR told him to, glaring down at the lumpy rations he’s been served. With his shift over for the day, it’s not like he has anywhere else to be (anyone to be _with_ , he thinks, and feels his mood darken again); eventually he’ll go and work some of his frustration off in the communal gyms, and then the remainder off into his fist in his blessedly single room, same as every night.

He’s not sure how long he sits there before he finally calms down enough to try shovelling food into his mouth, only that it’s cold by the time he does, and that his least favourite stormtrooper has just dropped his tray down on the table opposite from him.

“Overheard Leslee bitching at you today,” Tim says conversationally, digging into his food with his usual gusto. “It’s ‘needing to get laid’ now, huh? Finally put the lactose intolerance theory to rest?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Matt grumbles under his breath, making an effort to load bigger mouthfuls onto the remaining half of his spoon, the faster to get away from Tim. The stormtrooper gives Matt a long, considering look, chewing thoughtfully. He holds the look for just long enough that Matt nearly loses it, but before the anger explodes out of him, Tim peers quickly over his shoulder as if to check for eavesdroppers, before leaning forward across the table and lowering his voice conspiratorially. 

“Listen, I heard this rumour,” he starts, “heard it from some of the guys in the 501st, and don’t be spreading this around, okay?” Tim licks his lips nervously, eyes darting from side to side. “So _I_ heard, way down on level 42, east deck, okay- they say sometimes, during graveyard shift, a guy can go down there and get what he needs. Understand?” His eyebrows rise up towards his hairline, as if to impart some kind of additional wisdom.

When Matt just frowns in response, Tim rolls his eyes. “Just go give it a look, okay man?” he sighs. “And for fuck’s sake don’t tell anybody, Hux will space us all if he finds out.”

Matt nods mutely. 

He’s not entirely sure why Tim would volunteer to share this information with him. He thinks it over while he’s lifting weights in the gym that evening, wondering if it’s some sort of trick; he’ll walk down there only to find, surprise! General Hux himself, waiting to escort Matt out of an airlock. He steps into the showers and tries very hard not to think about what _else_ he might find down there, cock twitching much too tellingly under the spray of water.

No, Tim is just bullshitting like usual, Matt decides-

-and then finds himself on level 42 anyway.

“Fuck,” he says softly to the empty corridor. The elevator swishes shut behind him. He should go right back up to his barracks on 34. He should get into his bunk, jerk off to the same boring porn he watches every night, and fall asleep. That’s what he should do.

He keeps walking.

 

*

 

After an hour of wandering the east deck, Matt is ready to write Tim off as a fat dirty liar. He’d started his exploration full of nervous, thrumming energy, holding his breath for some surprise around each new corner, but it rapidly became clear that level 42 is exactly like every other floor on the Finalizer – full of stark, metallic corridors and infinite utility closets. The only real difference is the volume of the engine, much louder down in the belly of the ship, and the lack of personnel scuttling to and fro. 

Matt frowns. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen a single person down here.

With an irritated huff, Matt smacks his hand against the controls of another random closet. About half of them have opened for him, the others beeping angrily with demands for clearance codes; this one is full of crates, like the thirty before them, the writing on the sides marking their contents as shin guards for the stormtroopers. He’s about to turn away when he spots it from the corner of his eye.

The door squeaks in protest as he slams a hand out to stop it closing, wrenching the panel open again; there, in the wall, an unassuming hole about the size of his fist. Crotch height.

His breath catches.

Letting the door close behind him, he leans in closer to inspect what is unmistakeably a glory hole – fuck, but he didn’t think these things were even _real_ outside of holoporn – adjusting his glasses to peer at the small, obscene graffiti scratched into the metal walls around it. Someone has started a tally, currently proudly proclaiming _73 troopers served!_ underneath it. He should have brought an anti-STD stim from medical, a condom, _something_ , only-

…only when Matt holds his breath and listens, he can’t hear anybody back there. He hazards a peek through the hole, finding the space beyond dark and lifeless – the flickering light from the utility closet just about illuminates the crawlspace enough to confirm it’s empty.

Just his luck, Matt thinks sullenly. He punches the wall above the hole half-heartedly for good measure.

Still. Still, Tim isn’t _entirely_ full of shit, then, and Matt makes a mental note of the location of this particular closet. And knowing the near hive-minded stormtroopers, where there’s one flagrant act of vandalism, there’s usually five more. He hurries onwards half hard, the anxious energy from before returning full force with each utility closet he tears through.

It takes him another twenty minutes of searching to find a second hole – empty and abandoned again, but the confirmation that there are more of these things buoys him. Really, he’s not sure why he’s so surprised at their existence; of course there had to be _something_ like this on a three kilometre long ship housing over 80,000 young, healthy personnel. The thought leaves him almost breathless with excitement.

Then he hears it.

Over his own heavy breathing, it’s a miracle he hears it all. He pauses, straining to listen to – the sound of…grunting? Skin slapping. Matt swallows, pulse thudding in his ears. The noise leads him to a dead-end corridor, a larger storage room at the end of it. His hand hovers uncertainly over the access panel, half-expecting it to be locked, to deny him access, unsure if he even wants to chance it. A loud, satisfied groan echoes from the other side of the door, the rhythmic thudding ending abruptly while Matt mutters _fuck fuck fuck_ under his breath.

Before he can come to any sort of decision, the door slides open.

“ _Shit!_ ” the stormtrooper yelps, raising his blaster up reflexively. “Fucking- _creep_ , just fucking _standing_ there-“ Matt just gapes. In the room beyond, another trooper snorts, eyeing the radar technician critically while he zips himself back up. But neither stormtrooper catches his attention.

There is, as expected, a hole in the wall. But the size of it, and the lower, very naked half of a man’s body sticking out from it, shuts Matt’s brain down completely.

The first stormtrooper shoulder-checks Matt hard on his way out, still muttering curses about technicians. The second rather more jovially pats him on the shoulder with an “all yours, buddy” before shoving him lightly into the room. The storeroom’s door closes behind Matt with an unusually final sounding thump, the echoes of the trooper’s laughter in the corridor outside further away with every moment, and Matt is left alone with this…

…body? Legs? Long, milky-white legs leading to narrow hips, leading to-

Matt turns away with a gasp. Not a body; whoever is bent over halfway through the wall, upper body hidden on the other side of the hole, is clearly very much alive and human. He takes a moment to catch his breath – _think, think, think_. The blinking lights of the door’s control panel slowly come back into focus. Yes, good, a good start; lock the door. Ignore the throbbing erection stiffening with anticipation between his legs. Steeling himself, Matt slowly turns around to try and assess the sight before him, performing the sort of mental catalogue usually reserved for the aftermath of one of his rages.

He starts with the wall (easier to ignore the man, for now). The obscene graffiti he found around the two smaller holes is echoed here, scrawled into the metal with chalk and pen this time: a tally totalling seven, an arrow pointing to the hole with a poorly written _cumdump_ above it that has Matt flushing and lowering his gaze to the floor. Ignoring the twitching pink toes of narrow feet for the moment, there’s a piece of chalk, a little pile of condoms (untouched) and anti-STD stims (running out, some used and discarded) to the side. The splatter of dried cum, impossible to tell whose.

Eventually he can’t look away any longer, following the length of the man’s pale legs upwards. Hair on his calves so fine it might as well be transparent; a half-hard cock, pink and flushed, hanging between soft, slim thighs, shifting as the man adjusts his legs to get more comfortable. The hole in the wall is tight, just big enough for the man to get his skinny hips through, and haphazardly padded with electrical tape and foam. Matt’s gaze centres, and fuck but he _wants_ ; the tight, round little ass sticking out the wall is pinked with rough handprints and sticky with semen, hole stretched out wet and slippery and oozing, the cum of nameless stormtroopers slowly dripping down smooth balls and inner thigh. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, this guy could be drugged, drunk, coerced, anything-

The man shifts his hips invitingly, purposefully.

Matt never was much good with self-control.

He finds himself reaching for one of the stims by the guy’s feet before his brain has caught up, already tugging down his sweatpants to depress the plunger into his thigh by the time it does. From there it takes only a moment to push his boxers down, hard, heavy cock springing free. Matt reaches out with clammy palms, forcing himself to slow down, to savour this as he cups a hand around each buttock, finding the flesh surprisingly soft despite the raw red handprints that litter the skin. Muffled behind the wall, the man moans, shifting back into Matt’s grip and tilting his hips up.

But, still…with big, clumsy hands pawing at the ass in front of him now, Matt runs his fingers over the mystery man’s skin, finding a long scar just above his right cheek with the pad of his fingertips. He leans forward a little for a better look, finding a raised, deliberate looking line of scar tissue; the cut was deep, whatever it was, and he finds the words tumbling out before his brain-to-mouth filter can stop them-

“Are you okay in there?” he blurts.

The man freezes.

Fuck. Reality comes crashing back down- fuck, this is meant to be anonymous, he doesn’t know this man, he can’t even tell what fucking colour his hair is, are you not supposed to talk at a glory hole, is there some kind of code-?

“I’m…I’m good,” a small, surprised voice eventually breaks through his panic, still muffled by the wall. “Really good,” the guy adds softly, and raises one foot to blindly search behind him, catching Matt around the ankles and rubbing reassuringly.

Matt takes a moment to thank the stars that this guy can’t see the humiliated flush burning from his ears to his neck. Deciding to keep his big, stupid mouth shut, he moves his hands lower, thumbs catching on the filthy-slick rim of the man’s hole and tugging gently open. He finds himself rewarded with a breathy little _oh!_ from the other side of the wall, heart pounding, dick throbbing as another glob of cum leaks out with the stretch. Squeezing the base of his shaft viciously, Matt gives in to temptation and lines himself up.

With a slow push, he sinks into the welcoming, sticky-wet heat of the man underneath him, the mix of cum and lube squelching around his dick to make the most obscene sound Matt has ever heard. He only vaguely hears the “ohhh, _ohhh_ my god,” from his partner, too caught up in his own mental mantra of _don’t come yet, don’t come, not already_. Even with the tally on the wall marking Matt as the eighth to have him tonight, the man is tight – or perhaps Matt can merely thank his larger than average cock for that (big and awkward like the rest of him), stretching deeper and wider than ever before.

He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding when he finally slides in to the hilt, groaning out a lung-deep rumble. The clutch of the man’s inner walls around him is perfect, so, so good, and he pulls out slowly, intent on making this last as long as possible.

Then he makes the mistake of looking down at the shaft of his cock, sticky and covered with the white cum of other men before him, and- fuck, this isn’t going to last long at all. The sight should fill him with disgust; instead, Matt can’t think of anything more erotic. His hips stutter forwards to push back in of their own accord – another lewd squelch, another drawn out _aaahh_ from the other side of the wall, the drip-drop against the ground of semen messily displaced with each thrust into his mystery lover’s hole. The man does his best to spread his legs wider, encouraging Matt deeper, more, more, and if he can’t make this last he can at least try his best to get his partner off, too.

Matt picks up his pace, wrapping his fingers around the man’s hips the better to snap his own forward; with careful angling, he manages to punch out a high-pitched _ah! ah!_ on every thrust, the legs underneath him trembling with every brush of cock against prostate. He can’t think, can barely breathe for the sound of skin against skin, the white-hot heat squeezing him for all he’s worth, the slick noise of himself in and out and in and out-

He reaches down, the wall in the way making things awkward, to try and stroke his partner off, not so much out of consideration as to desperately try and distract himself. Matt manages to get one, two good strokes in, sliding foreskin up over tip and down again before he’s startled by a sharp wail. He pauses, momentarily concerned he’s hurt the man when…

…when the man shudders violently and comes. The soft spurting of cum against the wall is deafening in the sudden silence, only faint whimpering from the other side of the wall and his own heavy breathing breaking it, while Matt’s fingers keep their grip on his cock tight through the orgasm. _Poor thing_ , he thinks he’d say if he could get the words out, _has nobody touched you there all night?_ But the near blinding sensation of the man’s hole twitching and milking at him steals his voice away, and with his lover satisfied, Matt lets himself go.

Hands bruising-tight around the man’s skinny hips, he pounds as hard and fast as he can, chasing his own pleasure with his bottom lip between his teeth thinking _not yet, just a little longer, just a little more, not yet, please, please_. But it’s already building, curling down the base of his spine and tight in his balls, just one more thrust, just one more-

Matt comes with a shout, emptying his load deep into his silky warm stranger. His head spins with it; it seems to go on forever, harder and more than he’s come in years, leaving him wrecked and shaking. Belatedly he realizes his glasses are crooked, halfway down his nose, his fingers still rhythmically contracting vice-hard around the man’s sides.

He’s knocked out of his stupor by the gentle, soothing rub of a foot against his legs – not pushing him away or encouraging him to pull out, but as if in silent thanks, wordless reassurance. His lover hangs there limply from the hole in the wall, as exhausted as Matt, it seems; reluctantly he forces himself to slowly withdraw his softening dick and _god_ , the way his cum follows out all in a rush, puddling on the floor between the man’s curled toes, porn is never going to be enough again compared to this. He smoothes his hands gently over the soft swell of the man’s ass, spreading it apart a little to encourage everything left out.

This is where, were they in the safety of Matt’s bunk, he’d get a towel or tissue or something, be a gentleman and clean his lover up, kiss them softly and tell them how good they were.

Instead the chalk tally on the wall stares back at him.

He doesn’t even have anything to clean himself up, never mind the thoroughly debauched man in front of him; what are you even supposed to do in this situation? Add a mark to the tally, pat the stranger on the ass and head on your way? It feels so…so empty. Impersonal.

Not knowing what else to do, Matt carefully tugs his boxers and sweatpants back up. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the white scar next to the man’s tailbone – he swears he hears a little hum of satisfaction from the other side, at that – before picking up the chalk to dutifully update the scratchings on the wall. The mark feels final, somehow.

In an awkward haze, Matt unlocks the storeroom door, toddling back out into the corridors of level 42 on unsteady legs. There is, thankfully, no one to see his walk of shame, no one waiting for their own turn with the stranger. He’s certain he’d punch them if there were, feeling oddly protective of the mystery man. Matt winces; not that he’s much better, having just taken advantage himself.

He makes it about two corridors away before he turns right back around. Fuck this anonymous shit. With a smack of his palm against the controls, the door slides back open. He can still be a gentleman, he can at _least_ make sure the guy is okay, ask him if he-

The hole is empty.

Matt blinks, numbly moving forward. His mark on the wall is still there, the puddle of cum still wet – he didn’t imagine it. Despite himself he pokes his head through the padded hole; unlike the other two holes, the space beyond seems to be not a crawlspace but another small utility closet, a door leading out to another corridor beyond. Was it- was this one of the doors that wouldn’t open for him? Did he miss it?

“Fuck,” Matt says softly, standing back up to thump his forehead against the wall, smudging the awful scrawl of _cumdump_ with his skin.

 

*

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The immovable shyness meets the unstoppable awkwardness.

“You need to cheer up.”

Matt lifts his head up from the cafeteria table, blinking blearily in the sudden bright light. He half expects to see Leslee scowling down at him – that’s been her new catchphrase around Matt lately, after all – but instead he sees Tim the stormtrooper frowning with concern. Lieutenant Colonel Zack has deigned to join them in the troopers’ mess for once, looking between Matt and Tim with interest.

“Whuh?” Matt says, intelligently.

“Dude,” Tim says flatly, setting his fork down with a flourish, “you’ve been moping for weeks. What happened? Did…you know…plan 42 not work out or something?”

“What’s plan 42?” Zack interrupts.

“Ehh, I’ll tell you later,” Tim waves him off. “Maybe.” Tim has absolutely no intention of sharing this information with a superior officer much too close to Hux’s level.

Matt makes a non-committal noise and lowers his head back down onto the cool tabletop. It’s been over a month since his first visit down to level 42. He hasn’t touched his First Order-approved stash of porn since, daily wanking sessions fuelled entirely by the memory of the encounter. For the first two weeks afterwards, he’d wandered back down every night, hoping to find the same stranger there again, without luck – the hole had remained empty save for one memorable evening where a very different, very female pair of tanned legs filled it. They’d been occupied with another stormtrooper at the time, and Matt hadn’t felt the need to wait for a turn – it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t _his_ stranger. His stranger, with the baby soft skin, and the long pale legs, and the little pink toes, and…

…and it’s safe to say he’s become a little obsessed with a person he knows nothing about. He doesn’t even have a hair colour to start with, as smooth as the stranger had kept themselves (for anonymity, maybe); his only clue the ghostly pallor of their skin and the sharp scar slashing down next to their tailbone. If only the stranger’s scar was in a more obvious place…having given up on level 42 weeks ago, he’s been lurking around the showers on different floors at all times of day and night in the hope of recognizing the stranger there instead. It’s a miracle he hasn’t been disciplined for it yet, honestly, but at least he doesn’t need to try and sneak into the women’s showers.

“Heard a rumour from one of my squadmates that FN-4032 caught Hux and Kylo Ren fucking in a closet,” Tim announces a little too loudly to be polite. Zack chokes on his mashed roots. “Whatcha think about _that_ , Matt?”

“That’s nice,” Matt mumbles, not really listening.

“Okay first of all, bullshit, Hux has a perfectly nice office for his illicit trysts,” Zack rasps out when he finally gets his food the right way down, “secondly, what the fuck. Is Matt sick or something? Kylo Ren gossip, dude!”

“Uh-huh,” Matt hums, tracing a scratch on the table with the tip of a finger. He sighs wistfully – it just reminds him of his stranger’s scar again. Maybe he’ll use the north showers on level 39 tonight, he hasn’t tried those yet.

He heaves himself up to head off to the gym, ignoring Tim yelling “is it terminal!?” after him.

Matt’s legs carry him on autopilot towards the treadmills, not quite trusting himself with heavy weights when he’s in this kind of fugue – much easier to lose himself in the steady left right left right thump of his feet, sinking into the idle fantasies that have occupied him for weeks as he wonders one more time just what kind of person wriggles their way into a hole like that. He can’t imagine them as anything but outgoing and confident, to have the guts for it; an officer? Another technician? A pilot? Too soft around the edges to be a stormtrooper (but then again, there’s Tim…)  

And what if this person doesn’t want to be found? Will they be angry when- _if_ Matt finds them? Embarrassed? He’s wondered for weeks what he’d say to them; somehow, “hey, I fucked you at a glory hole, do you want to get dinner together sometime?” doesn’t seem quite right, no matter how many times he practices it in his head.

By the time Matt notices the burning ache in his legs, he’s covered the distance of the Finalizer and back several times over on the treadmill, the gym long since emptied out. He curses a little when he checks his chrono – he doubts anyone will even be in the showers now, with the night shift in full swing, but he drags his sore feet down to level 39 anyway without much expectation for success.

 

*

 

The showers are empty.

Matt sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. For once in his miserable life, Tim is right; this pathetic pining over a man he’s never _really_ met needs to stop.

On the plus side, he can take his time with his post-workout shower tonight, with nobody there to tattle on him for using more than his assigned water allowance; he steps under the showerhead gratefully, closing his eyes and just letting the warmth sluice over his body.

He lazily scrubs himself down, lingering a little too long on his cock, but…but his head is still churning from his earlier musings, and when he moves to soap up his buttocks he can’t help but squeeze and remember the softer, less muscular ass of his stranger. Without a face to put to them, his fantasies all have him taking the man from behind, kneading and pawing, leaving his own handprints as he sinks himself deep, instantly bruising the skin like a peach in his head, marking, claiming, _mine_.

Matt blinks the water out of his eyes, peering over his shoulder – still alone.

 _Fuck it_ , he thinks, dick already chubbing up, might as well jerk off here instead of bed and save himself the mess. He takes himself in hand, squeezing lightly, teasing his foreskin up and down a little, thumb stroking the crown; he closes his eyes and pictures his stranger on his bed on all fours (face conveniently buried against the sheets), hole stretched and slick and all Matt’s for the taking. _My own little cumdumpster_ , fantasy Matt purrs, and real Matt shivers, feeling dirty despite the warm water, _just for me_.

Humming with satisfaction, Matt’s cock is hot and heavy and fully hard in his hands now, left hand shifting to cup his sac lazily while his right starts to jerk his shaft in earnest; fantasy Matt fucks into his stranger, balls-deep, hard enough to rattle the bed, and he tries to remember the beautiful, muffled noises the man made behind the wall, the breathy little-

“ _Oh!!_ ”

A clatter behind him has Matt jumping out of his skin, quickly shoving both hands down to cover his hard-on.

“S-sorry, sorry, fuck, I-I didn’t see you there, I’ll just-“ He turns to find a man with red hair falling over his face – far too long to be regulation – hurriedly picking up the bathing supplies he dropped from a little plastic tub. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll leave you to it,” he whispers anxiously, reaching for his bottles of shampoo. He’s pale, skinny but still pleasantly soft around the edges, and…

…covered in white, deliberate looking scars.

The man turns to escape to the changing rooms, but Matt’s already moving on instinct alone, reaching out to wrap a big hand around one of the redhead’s bony wrists and it’s _there_ on his hip, the long scar, just like Matt remembers it. The smaller man whips his head around with a hitched, fearful intake of breath, looking for all the world as if he expects to be hit. Big, terrified, mechanical blue eyes blink up at Matt, almost swallowing up the man’s sclera, red and raw around the edges, eyes that feel like they could swallow up Matt himself-

“I fucked you!” Matt bursts out and…shit. Shit, this isn’t how he wanted this to go at _all_. “I- I, uh. Um.” He gulps. The augmented eyes flick downwards quickly to follow the bob of his Adam’s apple before darting back up to widen impossibly more.

“A…a month ago,” Matt tries again, forcing himself to gentle his voice, trembling fingers still wrapped around the stranger’s wrist. “Down on level 42, that was…that was you, right? In the wall?”

The redhead’s wide eyes reset themselves with a loud click, before trailing slowly down Matt’s wet chest to his still hard cock, dark red and flushed and bobbing ridiculously between his legs. Matt follows his gaze before- shit, _shit_ , snatching his hand back to try and awkwardly cover himself, as idiotic as it seems at this point. The stranger shifts to hold his tub of bathing supplies over his own crotch, cheeks pinking with colour.

“Oh… _oh_!” the blue-eyed man suddenly gasps out in understanding, meeting Matt’s eyes again. “Y-you asked me if I was okay. That was- that was you?”

“Yeah!” Matt nods emphatically, relief and adrenaline flooding through him in equal measure. “Yeah, yeah I did.” He can’t seem to get any of the actual words he wants to say out – _holy shit, you’re beautiful, please be mine, go out with me, can I kiss you, what happened to your eyes, can I lick your scars_ – mouth opening and closing like a fish.

But before Matt can get his brain in line, the red haired man draws himself up slightly, shoulders tensing and brows furrowing with a sudden, out of place determination. He wets his lips, shiny pink tongue darting out, and takes a breath-

“D-do you want to ffuck my face?”

Matt’s struggling thought process dives right off a cliff, crashing and burning on the way down.

“Whuh- _what_??” he croaks out. 

The smaller man’s blush spreads like wildfire, eyes not quite meeting Matt’s anymore, but he somehow holds his ground. “You’re already- uh, mmmy, my m-mouth, do you- can I suck your cock?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Matt almost yells. This is- this isn’t at all what he was expecting, but considering their first meeting, perhaps he should have seen it coming. “But- but-“ don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up- “why? I don’t even- what’s your name?” He only just manages to bite back a hysterical _will you marry me?_

“Techie,” the redhead says, mouth twisting into a shy, crooked smile before he abruptly drops to his knees right there on the shower floor, tub of bathing supplies falling to the wayside.

“M-Matt,” Matt forces out, because it really only seems right that Techie should know his name too before he sucks him off in public. “Here??” he hisses desperately, eyes flicking frantically between the door and Techie’s sweet, upturned face shuffling closer.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever seen in here this late,” Techie murmurs, close enough that Matt can feel his warm breath ghosting against his cock. He slides his hands up Matt’s thick thighs, and the technician finds himself somewhat reassured that they’re trembling as much as his own – he grabs them without thinking, lacing their fingers together and squeezing in a way he hopes says _me too_. 

The gesture seems to be enough; Techie suddenly ducks his head, going for scrotum instead of shaft, but when he starts mouthing sloppy, sucking kisses to Matt’s balls he really can’t find it in himself to complain, despite his length rubbing over the redhead’s face in the oddest way.

“I, mm…meant it,” Techie mumbles against his testicles, the vibration of his voice shooting pleasantly up Matt’s spine, “be rough with me,” he says seriously, pulling back to meet brown eyes with electric blue, before-

“ _FUCK!_ ” Matt shouts as Techie swallows down his cock in one go. He instantly chokes as the head bumps the back of his throat, but rather than pull back, his hands come up to grab Matt’s ass, using his hold as leverage to push him deeper. “Fuckshit, Techie, _fuck_ ,” Matt gasps, scrabbling weakly to bury his fingers in red hair, not entirely sure whether to pull him off or to encourage him to take it to the root.

His decision is made for him when Techie pulls back with a choked cough, drool dribbling down his chin. “Like that,” he grins, guiding one of Matt’s hands to the back of his head. This is- this is…god, Matt doesn’t even know what this, and he’s all set to protest _it’s too much, I’m too big, I don’t want to hurt you_ , when Techie shifts his knees on the floor, and Matt can see that he’s achingly hard between his parted thighs, shiny with precome, even further gone than Matt.

“You- you like this?” he asks breathlessly, threading his fingers through Techie’s hair just this side of too tight. His pale eyelashes flutter closed in pleasure at the tug, nodding languidly and curling his tongue out with a little _aaah_ , all ready for Matt to shove back in.

With an invitation like that, how can he refuse?

He guides Techie’s mouth around his cock more slowly than before, but the added pressure of his hand at the back of his head seems to be enough to have the redhead moaning happily as he gently works himself deeper. Matt keeps him still there with a firm hand, deep enough that Techie is a hair away from gagging, savouring the wet heat of his tongue pulsing against the underside of his dick. He pulls him all the way off after a while, letting the smaller man gasp down air before feeding his cock back in and repeating the process, more and more until he can feel Techie’s throat trying to swallow around him.

“Look at me,” Matt begs, and _oh_ but this is going to be another one of those memories he turns to night after night; Techie blinks half-lidded eyes up at him, mouth spit-slick and drooling and filled deliciously, only centimetres away from taking it all down.

Matt moves his hips back and then bumps in again experimentally, and the half-moan, half-retch that Techie makes is just _obscene_ , blue eyes rolling back, expression sex-drunk. He’s so hard already, his balls tight and tingling, and his lover seems to be in the same boat if the way Techie’s hands have slipped down between his own legs and the slick noise of him jerking himself off is any indication.

He can’t look away as he starts to fuck Techie’s mouth in earnest, fascinated and inexplicably turned on by the bizarre noises he pulls from the man with each too-deep thrust, the noisy, frantic breaths Techie takes through his nose. Matt tries to stay mindful of not choking the guy to death, tugging him back for air now and then, but each time the redhead enthusiastically butts his head forward to impale his mouth on Matt’s cock trying to do _everything_ all at once, tongue licking messily at whatever it can reach, hollowing his cheeks, swallowing, swallowing and Matt whines because it’s so _much_.

“Shit- Techie I’m – _ah!_ – fffuck, I’m so close,” Matt manages to gasp out in warning. Techie looks up at him, squeezing at his thighs in acknowledgement. He sucks his way back up Matt’s cock achingly, painfully slowly in one sweet drag – Matt fully expects him to pull off with a wet, noisy pop, resigning himself to tumbling over the edge to finish on his flushed face.

Instead, just as he reaches the tip, Techie’s electric eyes sparkle with mischief, and he pushes his head back down to take _everything_.

Matt only has one hysterical second to realize he can feel Techie’s nose bumping against his skin, burying into his pubes before he comes with a wordless shout. His knees almost buckle as he spills down Techie’s throat – the redhead does his best to swallow, but with Matt all the way and the sheer amount of it he gags and splutters, and that just makes Matt come harder as it dribbles out from between lips and cock.

Techie pulls off for air like a man drowning, the last weak spurt of Matt’s cum hitting his chin and joining the rest of the spit-slick, salty mess dripping down the pale column of his throat. 

Matt tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of Techie’s head, pulling, forcing the smaller man to arch his spine backwards as he gasps for breath, his own fist pumping his cock furiously.

“Don’t let go, don’t let go-” Techie chants hoarsely, half-lidded gaze locked onto Matt’s hazel eyes as he works himself to completion, and who the fuck is Matt to not give him everything he wants? He tugs harder, bending the smaller man back further and he wants to see _everything_ when Techie comes – and then the redhead tenses, and does. 

Matt’s not sure he’s ever seen anything as beautiful.

The arc of his pearly cum shooting over his scarred chest, only adding to the mess of Matt’s own. The roll of his eyes back into his head. The blotchy spots of colour littering his cheeks and collarbones. The absolute bird’s nest his fiery hair has become with Matt’s fingers tugging it into disarray, strands stuck with sweat to his neck and temples. The twitching of his cock – not big and cumbersome like Matt’s, average, just right, dark and pretty and slick. Techie moans softly and goes limp, eyelids fluttering closed as he finally comes down, one big hand still cupping the back of his head.

Then he squeaks as gravity suddenly changes and he’s lifted in the air.

“Wh-what are you-!“ he protests half-heartedly. Matt carries him bridal style towards the showerheads, setting Techie down on the floor underneath the warm water (he can’t quite bring himself to feel guilty that he forgot to turn the shower off – not after all that). He retrieves Techie’s little tub of bathing supplies before settling down behind him.

“I’m gonna clean you up,” Matt says decisively – then…falters, anxiety creeping in around the edges. “Is that…is that okay?”

Techie twists around to look back at him, blinking with surprise. “O-okay,” he nods, somehow seeming to blush harder at this than the thought of being face-fucked. He turns back around, letting Matt lather his hair up with shampoo, blunt fingertips combing out the knots they’ve been making. The smaller man slowly relaxes under the attention, humming with pleasure.

There are so many things Matt wants to say – he wants to know everything about this man, find out what makes someone so painfully shy and awkward brave enough to get fucked by strangers and proposition radar technicians in empty showers, he wants to learn the story behind every scar on Techie’s body, to know if Techie’s eyes were always blue – but most of all he wants Techie not to leave. Now that he’s found his stranger again, he’s terrified of the wrong words coming out, desperate to find the right ones to make him stay.

“I, um. I liked it when you kissed my back,” Techie whispers into the quiet, almost as if he doesn’t want Matt to hear it. “Nobody’s ever done that before.”

“Your scar,” Matt corrects softly, running a finger down it. He swallows loudly. “I, uh, went back for you. After we- I. But you were gone already.” He tips Techie’s head back to rinse out the shampoo, carding his fingers through the wet strands.

“ _Oh_ ,” Techie breathes.

“I looked for you,” the words tumble out of Matt despite his brain groaning _no, no, no_ , _stupid_! “For weeks, ever since. I wanted- I wanted to see you again.”

“Why?” Techie asks, turning around to look at Matt with genuine confusion.

“So I could ask you out,” Matt blurts. “For dinner. Fuck, do you- do you even _know_ how hot you are? I wanted to know what kind of person would- downstairs…”

Techie looks away and shrugs, shoulders curling inwards. “One that’s bad with people,” he mumbles, chewing anxiously at his puffy lips, “and, um…really likes sex. Is that…?” _Disgusting_ , he seems to leave unspoken, worried gaze chancing meeting Matt’s eyes.

“Hot,” Matt finishes instead, brushing his fingers against Techie’s warm cheekbones reassuringly. Everything around them seems to stand still, and all he can see is the deep black abyss of his stranger’s pupils. “You’re so…”

Techie saves him from struggling to find the right word, leaning forward to kiss Matt softly.

 

*

 


	3. Chapter 3

“You need to lay off the caffeine.”

Matt pulls his head out of the vent he’s been half-submerged in to smile beatifically up at his supervisor. Leslee visibily recoils, face scrunching up with disgust. “Put that creepy smile away, man! Seriously, I do not know _what_ you are on, but when I find out-”

Her bitching is easy enough to tune out as he ducks his head back down to finish the rewiring. She’s been blaming everything on caffeine lately – for a while she was convinced it was stims, then spice, but after dragging Matt down to the med bay for an impromptu drug test and everything coming back clear, she’s had to settle for trying to ban him from coffee and energy drinks.

Let her try if she wants; he’s smiling because of Techie.

They’ve been together for four months now and Matt’s never been fucking happier – sure, he still flies off the handle and yells and breaks stuff, but he likes to think Techie has been a good influence on him. The other day, he only slapped Tim’s lunchtray off the table instead of beating him round the head with it after he called Kylo Ren whipped. That’s progress, right?

He’s all but moved in to his boyfriend’s room down on 39 at this point, the louder volume of the engine an easy trade off for the double bed Techie has somehow managed to score (Matt has a suspicion that Techie has connections higher up – very, _very_ higher up – but he’s not entirely sure he wants to look under that rock just yet). He can’t deny that his mood has been infinitely improved by having someone to curl up with at the end of the day, someone whose soft stomach he can nuzzle against while long fingers work their way through his curls, who soothes him with patient words and soft touches when he’s mad, who understands perfectly his complaints about calcinators and circuitboards and shoddy wiring and looks at him like he hung the fucking moons and stars.

…That, and he’s getting laid almost every night.

His hypersexual little darling is up for anything and _everything_ ; the more filthy and depraved something makes Techie feel, the more it seems to turn him on, whether it’s bouncing on Matt’s dick and calling him _Daddy_ or being fed Matt’s spent cum straight from his own hole. Sometimes, he catches Matt in the hallways before he can head to his post-workout shower, leading him back to their room so he can lick the salty sweat from his skin and milk his musky cock dry. Some days, Matt doesn’t bother with his workout, replacing weight training with lifting Techie against the wall and fucking him until he screams.

Honestly, Matt’s never been so satisfied with life; he keeps finding himself staring into space with a smile, until Tim inevitably snaps him out of it with one of his stupid remarks.

Today, though, today he has an entirely different reason to grin dopily at his colleagues; it’s one of Techie’s rare days off, and that means a chance to finally fulfil a fantasy whispered late one night in the pitch-black dark of their bedroom. Techie has hundreds of them, of course (everything from being folded in half and kept in a box to Matt whoring him out to alien smugglers), but this one only required a week of abstinence on Matt’s part beforehand and a day with no one demanding the security expert’s time.

“Matt, are you listening to me!?”

He’s really not, too distracted with what’s waiting for him in bed. “Rewiring’s done,” Matt answers Leslee instead. She can’t yell at him for doing his job, at least.

His supervisor gives him a long, hard stare before closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose with an exasperated breath through her nostrils. “You know what man, just get the fuck out of here,” Leslee sighs. She turns and walks off, hands in the air as if beseeching some higher power for patience. “Shift’s over early today, I can’t deal with you on an empty stomach.”

Matt has to resist triumphantly fist-pumping the air, instead closing up the vent and packing away his tools in record time.

 

*

 

His foot taps impatiently all the way down. As soon as the elevator reaches deck 39, Matt shoulders his way past the stormtroopers and technicians to break out into a run, giddy with anticipation – but when he finally reaches Techie’s door he slows, taking a moment to catch his breath and open the door gently, quiet as he can.

Just as he thought; his lover lies dozing on the bed, in much the same place Matt left him two hours ago.

The room is warm, air heavy with the heady scent of sex. Techie’s breathing is deep and even, chest rising and falling slowly, though Matt can’t see his eyes behind the blindfold – his own addition. The red-haired man is lying naked on his side in bed, knees curled up for a tantalizing glimpse of his lube-slick thighs, the baby pink flange of a plug peeking out between his legs.

 _Fucking breathtaking_ , Matt thinks with awe, tiptoeing into the room and letting the door slide shut behind him. He paws one-handed at the control panel to lock it, toeing off his work boots and shrugging off his awful orange harness, cautious not to make a sound. Carefully, he sits down on the edge of the bed and just looks and looks, not quite ready to wake Techie up yet. Still not quite believing this man is his.

He’s already had Techie four times today – once, before his shift, waking up early to ease his sleepy lover open slowly, four fingers and near half a bottle of lube. After a week of saving himself up for this Matt hadn’t lasted more than a few thrusts. He’d plugged Techie up full of cum and slick; the second time, he’d rushed back downstairs during morning break, not enough time to get his lover off but just enough for Techie’s tight hole to coax another orgasm from him before replacing the pink plug (Matt was late back anyway).

The blonde traces a finger slowly down Techie’s bony spine; lunchtime had found the smaller man writhing and desperate for his own climax, plug teasing and heavy but not enough, not _Matt_. Then there’d been time to give Techie the pounding he wanted, the slide and squelch of Matt fucking into his own spunk enough to bring them over together. When he returned for their fourth fuck in his afternoon break, Techie had already spilled over himself in Matt’s absence, tacky, drying cum a mess all over his stomach he’d refused to let Matt clean up.

He thinks once again of Techie’s warm breath whispering secrets against his ear: “I want,” he’d murmured, so much more confident in the dark, “to spend a whole day doing nothing but being filled with your cum, over and over,” he’d sighed, “I want to be your toy, plugged up and waiting,” he’d said, and Matt had nearly come in his boxers there and then. Techie says a lot of dirty things, but this one wouldn’t let Matt go – maybe because it was so similar to the fantasies he’d dreamed up when he still knew only legs and a scar.

To Techie’s constant delight, Matt has a tendency to cum like a stallion, messy and plentiful and everywhere, but even he can’t compete with seven stormtroopers’ worth of spunk. He thinks, maybe, for their six-month, half anniversary he’ll take Techie back down to level 42, sit on the side of the wall with his face and kiss and lick him sweetly while strangers use him for their pleasure; then, just before Techie gets too sore and exhausted, he’ll finish the evening by fucking his lover himself, fill him fit to bursting like that first meeting – only this time, Matt will be there to clean him up and bring him back down with whispered reassurances.

Matt shivers deliciously at the thought. He’d worried he wouldn’t be able to fuck Techie five times in one day, but the thought of his plan has blood rushing south one more time.

“Baby,” he murmurs, leaning down to mouth against Techie’s ear, “baby,” tugging off his jumpsuit and t-shirt and boxers and socks, “baby,” putting his glasses to the side, “baby,” sucking gentle kisses down the delicate skin of Techie’s neck to his shoulders all the while.

“Hhmm…mm…Mattie…?” Techie stirs, squirming against the sensation. “You all done for the day?” he asks sleepily when he feels Matt’s bare chest pressing up against his back.

Matt smirks against Techie’s shoulder blade. “Mm, not quite,” he teases, one hand reaching down to slowly twist the base of the plug still nestled in Techie’s ass. “Just one more thing to do.”

“O-oh?” Techie grins through a hitched breath, shuffling onto his other side so he can blindly search for Matt’s mouth. The radar technician is nothing if not obliging, closing the distance to kiss him properly; he licks languidly into the redhead’s parted lips, sucking his tongue just the way he knows make the smaller man’s toes curl, while one hand toys idly with the plug. “Mm, M-Mattie – _ah_ – don’t, don’t move it so much…feels like everything’s gonna come out,” Techie gasps.

“Can’t have that,” Matt hums in agreement, gently pushing Techie to lie flat on his back, “not after I put so much effort into filling you up all nice.” Always content to be manhandled to Matt’s liking, Techie goes willingly, pliant and soft; Matt settles himself between his lover’s splayed thighs, less grinding than just brushing his cock against the hips below lazily. Like this, he can dip his head down to suck and pinch lightly at Techie’s nipples until they peak for him. He’s rewarded with a slow, contented sigh from deep in the redhead’s narrow ribcage, the cock trapped underneath his weight twitching upwards in search of friction.

“Still good?” Matt asks into Techie’s skin when he reaches his bellybutton. “Not too sore?”

“Still good,” Techie answers on a breath, and were he in a more impatient mood he might remind Matt of all the times he’s coaxed the blonde into being downright brutal with him – he can take so much more, wants _everything_ Matt is willing to give him. Instead, lethargic and still vaguely sated from earlier, he hitches his hips up to rub against whatever of Matt he can reach, half hard and getting thicker by the second. The radar technician takes the head of his cock between plush lips, suckling the tip and tonguing the foreskin down, just enough to tease Techie to full hardness before his fingertips trail lower still.

“Lift your knees up, baby,” Matt rumbles, arranging his lover until his hips tilt up towards the ceiling and he holds himself bent in half by the knees, plugged hole presented. With a slow twist and a sucking squelch, Matt eases the plug out, and…and fuck, saving himself up for a week was so worth it, watching cum fight gravity to try to bubble and ooze out of Techie’s raw, shiny pink hole, knowing it was him, all him that filled his darling fit to bursting.

Above him, Techie squirms and whines, patience running thin and not wanting to lose a drop. “C’mon, don’t leave me empty,” he moans. “Need you, need you…”

Matt huffs, dipping one finger into Techie’s loose hole and making it squelch, cum and slick dripping out around it. “Think you’re pretty full of me already,” he teases, curling the digit and enjoying the resulting cry it produces.

Still, he takes pity, on himself as much as Techie with his own balls sore with need, shuffling up the bed to settle his knees on either side of Techie’s hips. With his hands braced on the mattress next to his redhead’s shoulders, he dips downward and sheathes himself one more time. They groan together at the feeling, the mess they’ve spent all day making leaking out with Matt’s fat, thick cock filling Techie instead. Matt grinds his hips in slow little circles before he can’t resist anymore, drawing back to start humping into his lover in earnest.

Techie bites his lip to suppress a giggle at the wet, sucking sound Matt’s cock in his ass makes with each deliberate thrust in and out.

“Fuck, you’re so…mm, so wet, baby,” Matt snorts with laughter too, because the slick squelching is so _loud_ in their room with just the two of them. Honestly, he’s glad for the mess – not just because it’s weirdly gross-hot, but because he’s not sure how much more friction his poor dick can take today, oversensitive from earlier already.

“All full of Mattie,” Techie says coyly, cheeks pinking under the blindfold.

“This what you wanted today?” Matt leans down to rumble against Techie’s collarbone, breath damp against the thin skin there. “Be my slutty little hole?” With one finger, he tugs lightly at the knot of the blindfold. “Don’t even need to see. Just spread your legs and moan for me, hmm?”

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Techie whines, and no matter how idiotic dirty talk made Matt feel at first, the reactions are always so, so worth it. The smaller man squirms underneath him, greedy and trying to do too many things at once – spread himself wider, clench his pelvic muscles around Matt, buck his hips upwards to meet each thrust and get him deeper. The end result is mostly just wriggly, but the desperate enthusiasm strokes the blonde’s ego like nothing else. “K-keep talking, Mattie, please-“

“Stars, I could just keep you like this forever,” Matt huffs into the space between Techie’s neck and shoulder. “Never have to – _ah!_ – jerk off again, just put my cock in you whenever I like…my little wet dream...”

“Oh _god_ , Mattie, Mattie,” Techie sobs, bearing his hips down into the mattress to arch his back up, head tipped back into the pillows with his hair spilling out like a fiery halo. And well, that just won’t do – Matt pauses to get his hands underneath Techie’s hips, sitting up onto his knees and lifting. The redhead yells wordlessly at the change in angle, half his body up in the air, Matt’s cock hitting just fucking right and god Matt is glad he got into weight training, that he can hold Techie there and pound into him so very easily.

One of Matt’s favourite things about Techie is the way his tongue hangs out of his mouth when he fucks him just right, panting like a bitch in heat and drooling without a care in the galaxy. His tongue curls out wetly now, open-mouthed _ah! ah! a-ah!_ s with every brush against his prostate, and Matt wants more – he reaches out a hand to tear off the blindfold, Techie’s eyes resetting and adjusting to the sudden light with a noisy, mechanical whir.

“Theeere it is,” Matt pants, grinning, “there’s the sex-stupid face,” but Techie is hardly listening, eyelids fluttering as his big, blue irises roll up towards the pillows, totally lost to everything but the feeling of Matt inside of him.

With one more hard snap of his hips Techie comes, impressively managing to paint his own face with the way Matt has him tipped over, wailing with every weak spurt, and the adoration that bubbles up in Matt’s big chest makes him feel like he’s going to burst; Techie’s a fucking mess, covered in and out with cum and drool and spit and slick both wet and dry, utterly ruined, a filthy, dirty little angel with a squelching, noisy hole squeezing vice-like at the cock inside it.

And Matt made him that way.

It’s this thought that has the blonde tumbling over the edge of orgasm with a shout, for the fifth time that day, so spent and oversensitive he’s fairly sure he goes cross-eyed, breathing like he’s run a marathon. His knees collapse underneath him, Techie’s body falling heavily along with Matt into his lap.

“Fuck,” Matt huffs out, almost disbelievingly, “fuck.” Techie doesn’t seem able to speak yet, eyes blinking slowly and unseeingly up at his big lover. Matt pulls out, everything already too much, too much, and- “ _aghh-hhfuck!_ ” he yells when the sight of Techie’s hole spilling out Matt’s spent seed pulls one last, weak, answering glob of cum from his slit.

Techie makes a noise that may or may not be an attempt at words, smiling dopily up at Matt. He might be trying to look smug – Matt’s not sure about that either, but just in case he swipes his fingers over Techie’s hole, coating them sticky before curling them into the redhead’s still open, drooly mouth. Techie hums with delight, cleaning up the mess with weak kitten licks.

Disgusting. Matt’s never loved anybody so much.

He does this a few more times before Techie seems to come back to reality, his contented noises and firm licks around Matt’s fingers much more intentional now. A wet towel isn’t going to be enough for this – they’re going to have to brave a walk of shame to the communal showers, probably, at some point – and the wet patch on the bed is becoming more of a puddle, but everything can wait. Matt collapses down onto the mattress next to Techie, making him bounce.

“That’s it,” Matt laughs breathlessly, “I’m empty, there’s nothing left. You’ve squeezed me dry. See, c’mon, feel,” – he grabs limply for one Techie’s hands, tugging it over to cup his balls – “they’re lighter, right? Right?”

The redhead does one of his patented giggle-snorts. “Stupid,” he says, shaking his head fondly.

“They were so heavy this morning!” Matt protests jokingly, grin stretched wide across his face. “No more fantasies with me saving up my cum for a week, fuck.” Techie just tries to kiss him at the same time as giggling. When it doesn’t quite work he grins back instead, bumping his forehead against Matt’s and keeping it there, laughter bubbling back up every few seconds.

With his electric blue eyes there so close and blurry and crinkling at the corners, Matt feels like he’s drunk, drowning in Techie’s mechanical lenses, so happy he feels like something’s going to burst-

“God, I love you,” he says reverently.

…Shit. It burst, all right. Matt’s heart stops beating, he swears, the only sound between them the click and whirr of Techie’s steadily widening black pupils as the words sink in, and it’s too soon, he’s fucked it up, he’s going to have to do the _you don’t have to say it back_ speech when all he really wants is-

Matt suddenly finds himself flat on his back with Techie’s full weight on top of him, kissing every inch of his face desperately. He squeaks – not quite in protest, more confusion – utterly unsure what to do with his hands and vaguely attempting to catch Techie’s mouth and kiss him properly, but the redhead pulls back before he can.

“Love you too, I love you, Mattie, Mattie-“ and Matt laughs for real while Techie presses smiles all against his skin, because they really are hopeless, but at least they’re hopeless together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end~!  
> Thank you for joining me in this filth and your comments, everybody!


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